Embers and Other Words
by Mariagoner
Summary: Fantasies are meant to be consensual, not fulfilling. A series of drabbles centered around Ashe, featuring Ashe X Basch, Ashe X Vaan, Ashe and Vossler, among others.
1. Chapter 1

Watch an old dog tries trot out a few new tricks in her arsenal for your pleasure!

I decided that, like most other authors of the FFXII fandom, I might as well take a crack at writing everyone's favorite Extremely Angry and Ready To Put Your Head Through a Metal Grating Because of It Princess. And so here's a new collection of short Ashe-inspired fic-bits, dialogues and letters for everyone to, er, enjoy.

Next up comes a tid-bit of Ashe and Vaan fic, for the radiant Ladyassassin and then something Ashe and Vossler flavored for the excellent Aeris888. But for now, here's a short post-game dialogue between Ashe and Basch, originally written for the unfairly talented Mithrigil and still, I suppose, dedicated to her. ;)

Bonus points, btw, go to whoever can figure out what recent pop song inspired this fic! (Though I'll just tell you if you really want. ;)

**Title: Embers and Other Words, Chapter 1: To the Start**

**Fandom: Final Fantasy XII**

**Characters/Pairings: Ashe, in various combinations with Basch, Vaan, Vossler**

**Rating: PG**

**Summary: Was there, she wondered, still time enough to go back to the start?**

I knew from the start this would not be easy…

My lady?

…But all the same, I didn't imagine it could ever be so hard.

Your highness? I--

I'm sorry, Basch, do I confuse you once more? I feel as though I've been doing that to all I've ever… cared for all my life.

My lady, you've never really confused me. And at this point, I do not believe I shall have to stretch my imagination to understand what you speak of.

Hah. No, I don't quite believe that either.

As ever, you hold me in too high regard.

No, no, never that. If anything, 'tis poor repayment in light of what I've regarded you as in years past.

Your highness, any debt occurred from those times have long since been forgotten.

Do you believe so, Basch? Really and truly? I don't… I think no matter how determined one might be to move on, some part of them will always be running in circles and making the same mistakes they've always made, till they wind their way back to their start.

You… you cannot mean that. Highness, even at Dalmasca's worst, I've never heard you sound so--

Being queen for even a month for a broken kingdom can… do that to one.

Then let us…

But regardless, Basch, will you tell me of which I speak of? I do not quite know myself as of this part.

I… cannot claim to be a reader of minds. And of all the minds I've ever met, yours might be the most… intricate and…

You mean to say difficult.

And you mean to smile, however you may hide your face behind your fan.

Dressing as a woman after so long has been strange at times, yes. But there are compensations for finally playing the part.

And I did not mean to say difficult, my lady. Sometimes, you are simply not easy to understand. But still, you are all the better a person for that.

I--

You are. You _are_.

The… question then. You have not yet answered.

I do not know if I truly know the answer. But Lord Larsa has told me, many, _many_ times, that those who merely look upon a scepter can have no idea of how heavy the burden of actually wielding it is. Is that what you speak of?

As ever, Basch, you know my mind in more ways than all else in the world.

…Gabranth.

Pardon?

Gabranth. As Lord Larsa has ever stressed to me, I must needs become used to being called by another name by now.

To being the _ghost_ of another, you mean.

My lady…

Of all the cruel deeds your brother has ever done to you, this must be the worst of all.

He… he was always thoughtless in that way. He pushed change on people, without even asking of what they themselves wanted, and let the pieces of their life fall back where he willed it over and above any other matter.

Ba--

Please. _Please_, I am now _Gabranth_. And despite it all, I still honor my brother. In the time that lies ahead of us, I will carry his last wishes out.

I… know. I'm sorry if I impugned your own flesh and blood without meaning to. Perhaps that is my own bitterness speaking in being deprived of-- of your services.

And I in turn… I treasure your loyalty. Where I can be, I am ever a servant of Dalmasca, even after Archadia has lain down its brand.

Yes, of course. I spoke of naught but that.

Your… majesty?

I… forgive me. I speak now, and I speak in a way that would lead one to think my sanity is ever in doubt.

No, your highness, you are not mad. We, the both of us… we just never realized that what would face us after our journey would be even more difficult to navigate than the trails that came before.

I did think of that, sometimes. I _did_ realize that life would not be a bed of roses after we finally defeated the mechanizations of the Archadians. I just…

…Yes?

I just never realized it would be so hard. And after we found each other once more, I never realized that we would have to face the future apart.


	2. Chapter 2

For the ever-radiant **Ladyassassin**, following her extremely intriguing prompt of jealousy. And I promise, one day, I shall actually write a _happy _piece of fiction involving Our Lady of Perpetual Anger! Today, however, is not that day.

* * *

**Title: Embers and Other Words, Chapter 2: Howling**

**Fandom: Final Fantasy XII**

**Characters/Pairings: Ashe/Vaan, One-Sided**

**Rating: Hard R, sexual situations**

**Summary: Fantasies are meant to be consensual, not fulfilling.  
**

* * *

Whenever he does this, he always thinks first of her eyes.

He does not do this often. He cannot allow himself to do this too often. If he did, if he let himself too often indulge in this sort of deed, he would probably snap and, sometime in between one hunt and another adventure, probably set off to see her in the gilded and pad-locked tower he had helped place her within four years past. If he did, if he let himself picture how beautifully the broken pieces of their bodies could snap together if only she were willing, he would merely prove himself to be every inch the fool so many others had always thought him to be. If he did, he would probably fly all the way back to her on mechanical wings, only to have them burned off quickly by her scorn and her sorrow and her slow, subtle smile, made hopelessly brittle by her nation's weakened state.

_("Are you… are you sure, so very sure, there's nothing we can have here?"_

"_You know why just as well as I do. You didn't even need to come and see **me**.")_

But for all his bluster and false laughter and womanizing, he always finds himself eventually kneeling once again before her memory. And for all the flights he has taken halfway around the world to forget her, he and his hands always end up worship her ardently.

So whenever he does this, however infrequently to soothe his own wounded pride, he always thinks first of her fine, wide, ever-burning eyes. Somehow, it doesn't seem quite so hopeless and sordid this way.

Whenever he runs his raw knuckles over his body like this, he first thinks of her lashes and fine, bright eyes, their hue and circumference even larger and darker and lovelier in his mind than in reality. So lovely they were, wide-framed and gray-toned and resolute even in the face of horror, and he has long since lost track of how many times he has walked the streets of Rabanastre hoping to catch even a glimpse of its loveliest resident's beauty.

Whenever he finds himself reduced to a half mad huddle on the bunk of his bed, his mind goes over the exact shape of her lips, the exact character of her laugh, the exact pitch of her cries. It has been so long since he has heard them, since he has had her by his side (brows lifting lightly at his every provocation and lips curling up at his every moment of cupidity)-- and still he can remember all her particulars so well, as though the recollection of it were pounded into his very _being_.

Whenever he found himself muffling the cries of her name against his rough blankets, he imagines fine hands gripping an even finer blade in the midst of battle, a back set against his as they squared off against more opponents, the adventures she has won and even worse concluded, the smile that had once been brilliant and had faded into exhaustion as years of politics had passed them both swiftly.

And when he finally finishes the deed, fingers clenched against himself and imagination running wild, he breathes in the taint of his own sickness and corruption, of the stain of base human desire and need. He always lay shuddering in the aftermath that came all too swiftly, that reduced him to nothing more than an animal rutting hopelessly, howling at stars it could not ever hope to reach.

And he knows full well that there will be no happy ending for the either of them, not for a life they in which they could be content in each other's company. Because she has always had her purpose and her kingdom, because she will always have her power and her presence, because she will always keep close to herself her reasons for holding herself aloft from lesser beings such as he.

And of all the reasons he has to be jealous of when it comes to her,

_(her prince, her past, her future posterity-- all that lay in between, that would never let a pirate openly love a seated queen)_

That was perhaps the most hopeless of them all.


	3. Chapter 3

For **Aorin107**. Happy birthday sweet-heart! I hope you enjoy your impromptu present featuring what I know is your favorite pair in the fandom. ;) I don't tend to write Ashe and Basch together too often because there are so many people out there doing so many kick-ass things that I'm not sure what else is there to add. But this is a spin on them that I don't think has been particularly touched on too often so writing this was pretty fun. 

And comments, corrections and criticism are, as always, completely welcome and loved! After all, a little encouragement never fails to add a bit of inspiration...

* * *

**Title: Embers and Other Words, Chapter 4: Moments Of**

**Fandom: Final Fantasy XII**

**Characters/Pairings: Ashe/Basch**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Summary: Politics and pleasure usually don't mix… unless you're the Queen of Dalmasca.**

* * *

During moments like this, Ashe sometimes had to wonder exactly why it was that she had fought so hard to gain the title of sovereign over Dalmasca.

Oh, for sure, she knew she had all the reasons in the world to do so and could probably recite them in her sleep if asked to do so enough times. For the honor of her honored and storied family name, for the satisfaction of avenging of all the good people slain in the conquest, for the sake of her own bristling pride…

The list went on, really. But during times such as this one, when Ashe was stuck playing mediator to the most boring politicos of her realm, she really had to wonder if perhaps she couldn't have spent a few _more_ years playing dead in the sewers of Rabanastre. Frankly speaking, next to having to deal with the politics of a small kingdom, training the resistance to take on the full might of the Archadian empire currently seemed as easy as playing a cheerful game of checkers. Hell, right now, she'd probably even take being locked up in a small cell with a predeceased Vayne Solidor to this sort of policy meeting. He might end up torturing her just as efficiently but at least she wouldn't be bored to death while he did so.

Luckily, there were always fantasies to indulge in during meetings as desperately boring as this one was proving to be. And even as Ashe's eyes lowered at the thought of _certain_ fantasies that she could always count on to keep her warm at night-- especially since, sadly enough, all of Dalmasca seemed to want either a chaste or married queen-- she had to smile.

There was absolutely nothing, after all, that tended to lift her spirits as much as the thought of her former knight. And though she knew perfectly well that nothing would come of them, it still sent little fissions of pleasure all throughout her body to think of Basch as she had know him best, as she had known him with his golden hair spread all over his pillows as she had bent down to kiss his hand in thanks during their last night together, before the very last fight they had ever shared, side by side…

He had seemed so taken aback by her actions then, with his shaky breath stirring her hair as she had lightly lingered all over his body, doing as best as she could to show him just what his loyalty had done for her, just why she wanted to count on it in the future. And as was proper, she had had to stop dusting his body with kisses at his knuckles, before the already tenuous thread of control that held her in control before him snapped completely that one time. But oh, how she had wanted to continue showing him more and more of what rewards his loyalty could reap and what ties she could use to bind him with completely, at least before that bastard brother of his had completely sent him beyond her grasp…

If she had the opportunity again, if fate ever gave her this much, she wouldn't stop at what was merely proper this time. She'd take his hand in her own and brush her lips across his callused knuckles… but oh, she wouldn't simply pause there after knowing what she did now. She wouldn't _let_ herself pause. This time around, she'd trail her lips along the whole of his hands: wrist, phalanges, fingernails, carpus, the whole of his hand splayed open like a flower for her mouth, her breath, her life. And only when she was done memorizing the whole of that would she move on to broad, brown expanses of his shoulders, the hard, ruddy planes of his lower half, the sleek, full muscles of his backside…

"Your Highness!" a high-pitched voice of the incredibly squeaky persuasion interrupted, abruptly shattering her fantasies. "I'm sorry but we really do need a decision from you on this problem. Have you been paying any attention _at all_ to what we've been discussing here? I mean, you do realize that this is of vital importance to the well functioning of our nation, right?"

There was a long pause. Ashe raised an eyebrow. The head of the presiding council seemed to abruptly recall just _how_ Ashe had regained her current title in Dalmasca and shrank back with a nervous laugh. "As I was saying, the Muthru Bazaar is still in need of renovations if Dalmasca is to ever again become a great trading nation. My fellows and I have been thinking of ways to do just that. For example, we could, if Your Highness is at all amicable to the notion…"

Despite herself, Ashe smiled. Sometimes, it really _was_ good to be queen.


End file.
